


sweet as sugar candy

by Eddaic



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, set after 'And the Children Shall Lead'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 09:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11779827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eddaic/pseuds/Eddaic
Summary: McCoy looks at him expectantly. It is a look that could mean ‘Ask me about it’ as much as ‘Well, get out’.





	sweet as sugar candy

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know. It wouldn't take this much time to reach Starbase 4. ~~Lazy writing.~~ Artistic license.
> 
> Based on this tumblr post: http://spones-in-my-bones.tumblr.com/post/162409821394/startrekwreck-the-spock-makeup-made-his-lips-a
> 
> In case the post is deleted: "Okay but McCoy having lollipops in his office to give to kids and jokingly gives one to Spock but Spock thinks it must be the norm and keeps taking them every visit".

  
**sweet as sugar candy**

Spock takes the proffered object because he does not want to be culturally insensitive. He examines it: something round wrapped in bright pink foil, stuck on a plastic stick.

McCoy looks at him expectantly. It is a look that could mean ‘Ask me about it’ as much as ‘Well, get out’. As this is McCoy, choosing the latter option is wiser – and Spock is not in a mood for another of McCoy’s emotional spiels.

In his quarters he sits at his desk and unwraps the ball. It is red and sticky, probably a type of food. He sniffs it – saccharine fake strawberry, worse than anything a replicator could achieve – and then takes a hesitant lick. It is, as he predicted, vile, so offensive that he almost grimaces. For a moment he wonders if it is non-vegetarian, but dismisses the idea. McCoy is illogical and surly, but he would not force Spock to consume animal substances.

Spock finishes it because it was a gift, then downs a glass of water to chase away the taste.

The next time he goes to sickbay, he is again offered the sweetmeat.

“It’s a lollipop, not poison,” says McCoy gruffly, though there is a cheeky glint in his eye.

Spock takes it reluctantly and pockets it. A lollipop. He will have to look that up in the computer systems, understand its composition, historical significance, and current societal impact. He eyes the bowl of lollipops (the word is ugly, vulgar, but he does not voice this) and wonders why McCoy had only kept it there since the incident with Gorgan.

Later that evening, Spock is unable to find sufficient research on the lollipop. The computer provides an obvious definition, and the origin (of the sweetmeat or the word, it is not indicated) is ‘perhaps’ from Earth’s 18th century. He considers consulting Lieutenant Uhura about it, but decides that it is not important enough a matter to bother her with.

***

To Spock’s dismay and mild alarm, McCoy hands him a lollipop every time he visits sickbay. There is a growing mound of them on Spock’s desk, hideous pink against the dull wood. Spock has not eaten any more of them, though it is illogical to allow them to pile up; he will have to consume them at some point to avoid being rude and ungrateful.

He has noticed that, whenever he is busy and asks for his food to be brought to his quarters, the yeoman gives him a strange look after glancing at his desk.

“Is there a problem?” he asks when it happens for the fourth time.

“Not at all, Commander,” the yeoman says, in a tone that could be considered sarcastic, before marching out.

Spock misses the straightforwardness of Vulcans. Not for the first time.

***

Jim’s eyebrows are almost in his hairline, which is remarkable, because his hairline is rather high up. “Spock,” he says, “have you been stealing candy from the children?”

Spock wonders what he has done to warrant such a serious accusation from the captain. If he were human, he would be hurt. “Negative,” he says. “I am adequately nourished on a daily basis and have no need to steal any type of food.”

Jim’s giggle borders on the hysterical. “Then why do you have a miniature mountain of lollipops here? I didn’t think you’d enjoy them. You don’t even take sugar in your tea.”

“Doctor McCoy gifted them to me.”

Jim blinks a few times, like he has something in his eyes. “Gifted them?”

“Yes.”

“In a bunch?”

“Negative. He merely gave me one each time I visited sickbay. I thought it would be insensitive to not accept.”

There is a silence. Jim stares, very still, and Spock begins to grow concerned for him. Then Jim opens his mouth, takes a great breath, and guffaws. Spock strives to not feel affronted. “Captain,” he says gravely, “Vulcans do not appreciate being laughed at.”

Jim howls even louder. There are tears clinging to his eyelashes. “Spock,” he says, after the laughter dies down. He shakes his head. “Oh, my dear Mister Spock. I believe Doctor McCoy has taken you for a ride.”

“I would not permit him to,” says Spock, baffled and somewhat aghast at the idea. “He has no piloting experience.”

It is the wrong thing to say, because Jim’s laughter renews. He collapses in Spock’s chair and puts his face in his hands. Spock narrows his eyes, more annoyed than worried now; Jim does have an unfortunate way of bringing out Spock’s human side. “Captain,” he says, “I must demand an explanation.”

Jim removes his hands from his face, which is flushed and tear-streaked. It is fascinating how human mirth is so similar to human grief. “Forgive me, Mister Spock,” he says at length, still smirking, a little breathless. He seems to consider saying something further, then shakes his head again, clears his throat, and exits.

***

Spock finds McCoy in sickbay filling out paperwork. A half-finished cup of coffee sits by the bowl of lollipops. McCoy gives an ironic look when he sees Spock. “How’re we doing today?”

“I do not know the status of your health,” says Spock, “but my own is good.”

Before he can inquire about the lollipops, one of the children shuffles in, twirling her dark plait around a finger and keeping her gaze on her shoes.

McCoy immediately drops his customary frown and smiles. “Hello, there, my dear,” he says in that gentle, fatherly voice he only uses around children and severely ill or injured patients. It is, Spock thinks, illogically endearing in light of the doctor’s usual irascibility. “Are you feeling better? Fever gone?” McCoy asks.

The girl nods. McCoy runs his tricorder over her and gives a satisfied hum. “You’re all right, darlin’. Try not to move around too much today.” As she gets up from her chair, he hands her a lollipop.

Spock watches her leave, realisation descending on him. He turns and glares at McCoy, who has his chin in his hand and is sporting a toothy grin. “Want another one?” McCoy drawls in a teasing tone.

Spock walks out stiffly, his ears warm.

***

The next day McCoy comes up to the bridge, greets Jim, and perches on Spock’s console - an old, familiar gesture. Spock dutifully avoids looking at him, concentrating on his work. There is a crinkle of plastic, and he glances up to find McCoy discreetly holding out another lollipop with an apologetic smile.

Spock pauses, then reaches out and takes it.

_-finis-_


End file.
